


Somewhere Only We Know

by GwiYeoWeo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Domestic Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Makeup, Pre-Final Fantasy XV, gladio is a good big bro, green is not noct's color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: “You wanna get executed by firing squad? ‘Cause that’s how you get executed by firing squad,” Noctis deadpanned. He swiped at the mascara tube when Gladio didn’t let up, but missed as Gladio was too quick, pulling his hand back before Noctis even had the chance.“I’m afraid that was abolished during your great-great-great” — Ignis counted off his fingers — “great grandfather’s reign. You’d have learned this if you actually paid any attention in class, instead of texting me under the desk and asking what dinner’s to be.”The squad decides on a boys' night in, except with a plus one. Noctis doesn't mind, especially when he knows what disappointment and broken promises feels like, so he's more than willing to let Gladio bring Iris along for some goofy, dumb fun.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Iris Amicitia, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> what's proofreading lmao

“Green is so not your color, dude.”

“At least I don’t look like a sleep-deprived panda.”

Iris sat back and watched the boys bicker over the table, Noctis picking up a stray potato chip and pelting it at Prompto’s forehead. The table was certainly a mess of half-empty sodas and four kinds of chip bags, with a greasy pizza box dangling precariously off the edge, and strewn in with their buffet of Kenny’s delivery was a collection of makeup scattered among the napkins and paper plates. 

She hadn’t meant to intrude, especially when there had been plans to go dress shopping with Erica that evening and Gladio said he’d be at Noct’s apartment for a boys’ night in. But when Erica had called in to cancel their mall trip, right before the two streetlights that would lead to the shopping center, Iris had told Gladio to take her back home only to have him call up Noctis and ask if he could bring a plus one. She had barely got in a peep when Gladio waved a hand to swat down whatever half-hearted protests she had in mind. 

“Mom and dad aren’t home, and I’m not gonna leave you by yourself,” Gladio had said, making a U-turn at the next light. Iris had wanted to point out that despite being in middle school, she was plenty old enough to look out for herself; she may be young but age had nothing to do with being an Amicitia — perfectly capable of kicking butt and taking names, thank you. Besides, with how many attendants and servants littered their household, she technically wouldn’t be alone.

Gladio had known this, but still insisted on taking her to Noct’s. 

Probably because he had spotted the split second when her face turned downcast and disappointed. She had been raving about being able to go out for once and act like a normal girl, to go shopping and laughing with friends and pretend a triple digit price tag was far too out of budget when her Amicitia name could afford her the entire mall. Her brother could be disgustingly perceptive when he wanted to be; she sometimes wished he lived up to the stereotype of a musclehead.

“I’m afraid I must agree with Prompto on this one, Noct. Green does not become you.” Ignis rounded the table and carefully picked up the pizza box before it could fall and stain the carpet with marinara and grease. Already he was trying to do a little bit of clean-up, walking around with a plastic grocery bag and picking off the used napkins and crumbled up soda cans. 

“Well, in his defense, no amount of makeup could cover up that ugly mug of his.” Gladio pointed a tube of mascara at Noctis, the same one the Prince had tried to use, resulting in small smears around his eyes and ruining the green eyeshadow he had attempted. Though Prompto didn’t fare any better. Despite how steady and precise his hands were on a gun, he had the motor skills of a newborn when it came to eyeliner. Iris was pretty sure he accidentally poked his eyes a few times, from the way she had caught the slight jerks from the corner of her vision. 

“You wanna get executed by firing squad? ‘Cause that’s how you get executed by firing squad,” Noctis deadpanned. He swiped at the mascara tube when Gladio didn’t let up, but missed as Gladio was too quick, pulling his hand back before Noctis even had the chance. 

“I’m afraid that was abolished during your great-great-great” — Ignis counted off his fingers — “great grandfather’s reign. You’d have learned this if you actually paid any attention in class, instead of texting me under the desk and asking what dinner’s to be.” 

“Heck, even I knew that!” Prompto gently elbowed him in the side, smiling around a mouthful of chips. 

Iris caught the not-so-subtle eye roll Ignis gave before turning away back to the kitchen, probably to toss away the garbage he collected.

“Traitors," Noctis complained, "No loyalty to the crown.” 

  
  
  


Gladio leaned back into the patio chair, watching Iris and Prompto through the glass balcony doors and nursing a dark bottle he swore to his sister was  _ not _ a beer. “Thanks, by the way,” he murmured over the lip of his drink. Beside him, Noctis leaned his elbows against the railing while viciously rubbing a damp towel into his face. Despite how his skin was scrubbed pink, black ink and mismatched foundation still clung to his cheeks and eyes. 

“No big deal.” Noctis turned around to watch the same scene, Iris teaching Prompto how to properly apply concealer and highlights as Ignis patiently held a mirror in front of the boy. “Besides, I get it. Know how it feels.”

Gladiolus didn’t doubt it. It had been why he knew Noctis would be fine with having Iris over instead of defaulting to their usual shenanigans on their rare nights together, when all four of them could shrug off their duties for some hours and pretend they were just regular boys with regular problems. Noctis could forget about the stiff suits in his closet and the even more formal regalia hidden in his Citadel quarters, pretend his apartment was actually his home and not an attempt at a haven away from politics and the reality of his impending fate, the duties of a heavy crown, and the truth of his father’s mortality. 

Iris had been attempting just that, raving about her middle school dance like any normal girl her age. She was still young, secondborn and a daughter, but she was still an Amicitia. Her burden may not be heavy as Gladio’s, but she still carried a weight that any other girl would be free of. Her father, Clarus Amicitia, Shield to the current King, risked his life everyday just to stand by his friend’s side, and their entire family was always a target for both politics and the media; they had to keep up an image, the idea of a regal and noble household, because anything else would be pure scandalous. There were no allies outside of their tight circle of lifetime friends, lest they fall into webs weaved by deceiving politicians looking for leverage or blackmail. 

She’d been looking forward to a day’s break from it all, just a scant few hours to forget the weight of her name, only to have her short freedom taken away at the last minute. Gladiolus had recognized that look on her face — lasting for only a second before she tried to push back the disappointment — because he’s seen it too many times on Noctis’ own.

Both Ignis and Prompto had their own ways of easing away Noctis’ pain, but so did Gladiolus. How many times has Noctis cleared out his schedule just to have lunch with his dad, only to find out the King was urgently needed and had to prioritize the kingdom over his son? How many times did Gladiolus have to drag him into the training room, not to hone his skills or sharpen his footwork, but to give him an outlet to release his frustrations and bottled up emotions? Gladio wasn’t the best at emotional support and soft words of encouragement; but he had the build for a punching bag that could take all of Noctis’ pummels, or to wrap himself around the boy when all he wanted was to hide away from the world and have a shoulder to cry on. 

He had no doubt that had been why Noctis made a beeline to Iris, taking her by the hand and leading her to the couch where he and Prompto had been playing a video game to give her his controller. Why he had made every effort to indulge in her interests, asking about school and the upcoming dance, and ultimately letting Iris paint makeup on his face after a joke about goths and black eyeliner. Noctis knew what it meant to be shackled by one’s own name, power, and future and to have broken promises as an intimate friend. But he wasn’t going to let bitterness ruin his heart, and he had recognized Iris as one in need of his. 

“What are friends for, anyway?” Noctis grabbed at Gladio’s drink, taking a swig of it and choking his sip down before he could cough it up. 

Gladio laughed at the scrunched up face of disgust, made even more amusing by the remnants of makeup still stained on his skin, and reached a hand up to gently smack Noctis between the shoulder blades.

“Gods, Gladio, how do you even drink this stuff? Gross.”

"That's rich, coming from the guy who doesn't bat an eye at all the wine testing you do with your dad."

"Hey, that's different, okay?" Noctis shoved the bottle back into Gladio's hand, looking personally offended it dared to exist at all. 

"Sure, kiddo." 

"Hey, Iris, do Ignis next! I want to see how hot pink looks on him." Inside, through the small crack of the door, they could hear Prompto trying to goad Ignis into their mini styling session. 

"I think not. Pink does not suit my complexion."

Noctis got up, already making his way back inside, and hollered, "I'll pin his arms, you get his legs!" 

"Nah, you scrawny brats ain't got enough to pin him down.” Gladio placed his drink down at the feet of his chair then a hand on his opposite shoulder, rolling his arm along the joint as he warmed up. "Move, I got this."

The mess was a worry for another day, for the morning when the stars dimmed and the sun rose. For now, though, Iris laughed and played along, catching a glimpse of boys simply being boys and finding themselves some innocent trouble to indulge in. 


End file.
